Perhaps like me you’re afraid of the news.Not because it’s fake, but because it’s real.Then every once in a while curiosity gets the better of me and I uncover my eyes.Sometimes you can’t help but see.With the utter mess we’re in over here, it’s difficult to keep up with news from other countries we know.I’ve lived in the United Kingdom and I’ve worked for British companies.Needless to say, I wonder what’s going on over there from time to time.Lately I’ve been getting auto-replies to my emails to British colleagues stating that they’re on strike.I asked a friend in the UK about this.It used to be the professorate was treated with some regard in Her Majesty’s domain.Not being a financially minded person, I haven’t been aware of how deep or devastating our capitalism-induced recessions and depressions are.Apparently they’ve been bad enough to derail even British higher education.
Compensation for the professorate has been eroded away.Their pension plans have been depleted.Knowing the problems we have over here with professors refusing to retire, I was surprised to learn the UK has the opposite problem—professors unable to afford to retire.Now, lecturing isn’t physical labor, but class preparation (and committee work) take a considerable amount of effort.I could see not retiring if it meant lecturing only, but with everything else required, not retiring would be, well, exhausting.As over here the root of the problem is that higher education is the route into which many smart people are steered.You’d think it’d be a wonderful problem to have too many highly educated people.It’s not.With advanced study comes advanced debt.And limited employment prospects.
There are nations in the world where higher education is deeply valued.Where educated people are respected.Ironically, the nations enamored of capitalism aren’t those places.The only learning that’s required is how to get money from someone else.Beyond that, the rest is commentary.British higher education has fallen on hard times since I read for my Edinburgh doctorate.Schemes have been put in place to ensure faculty are being productive.Yes, there are some lazy ones.The majority, however, pull their weight and then some.And now they’re being told they must do so until the grave.No retired professor wants to spend her or his old age bagging groceries at Sainsbury’s.And so they’re going on strike.If only the world valued knowledge more than money there might be some news worth reading.
Symmetry.It’s pleasing to the eye.And significant dates are often the basis for holidays.Today is one of those extremely rare palindrome days.As my wife pointed out to me 02-02-2020 is a configuration that hasn’t occurred since 01-01-1010, or over a millennium ago.The next one will be after we’re all long gone, on 03-03-3030.Not only that, but today is part of a holiday cluster.It’s Groundhog Day.Yesterday was Imbolc, the Celtic cross-quarter day initiating spring.Imbolc is also known as St. Brigid’s Day.Today is called Candlemas, by liturgical Christian tradition.We are living through a truly unique day.Every day, I suppose, is unique, but the spirits are afoot today.
I’ve written about Groundhog Day before.With its prognosticating rodent, it tells us if spring is on the way or if it’s going to be delayed.Imbolc falls about halfway between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox.In Celtic cultures this was a cross-quarter day, a time of uncanniness.Spirits cross between worlds on days such as this.In days of yore, it was also the feast of the goddess Brigid.Christianity has always been an opportunistic religion.When missionaries to places like Scotland and Ireland couldn’t convince the locals to give up their deities, they made saints of them.St. Brigid is a fabrication of a Celtic goddess, not an actual saint.For similar reasons in the quarter-year counterpart to Imbolic, Samhain, the church moved All Saints Day to November 1 and All Souls to November 2.The Celts continued using the trappings of their cross-quarter day and eventually gave us Halloween.Imbolc never caught on in quite the same way.
The early Christians didn’t know when Jesus was born.Christmas was established on December 25 because of all of the solstice celebrations at that time of year.All that pagan jubilation had to be subsumed under a more solemn occasion.Building on that mythical date, New Year’s Day was January 1 because that’s when Jesus would have been circumcised, eight days later.Thirty-three days after a male child’s circumcision, a woman was to make an offering for purification in the temple.According to Luke, Mary did this, and 33 days after January 1, in keeping with our fictional date-keeping, is February 2.A tradition grew that Christians would bring their candles to church to be blessed that day (Jesus being the light of the world).This blessing of candles was named Candlemas.I first encountered it at Nashotah House, where it was still celebrated even as a sleepy woodchuck in Punxsutawney was rubbing his eyes.Not exactly a palindrome, but there’s a remarkable symmetry to it, no?
I admire those who follow their dreams.I have been writing fiction for over forty years now, and although I’ve had some success placing short pieces my novels haven’t found much interest.So when I see the published work of someone who obviously loves writing as much as Ailish Sinclair does, it warms my heart.Her debut novel, The Mermaid and the Bear, is the kind of historical fiction tinged with a little fantasy, all set in Scotland.Having spent three happy years in Scotland myself, I like to read native writers.One of the categories in this year’s Modern Mrs. Darcy’s reading challenge is a debut novel, so all these things came together in this one little book. There may be a little spoiler info below, so proceed with caution!
Sometimes I read a novel without knowing much about it in advance.That was the case with this one.I read Sinclair’s blog posts and appreciate the fact that she doesn’t compose long, rambling essays.Her posts often make me stop and think.Her novel follows a love story that turns into a witch-hunt.Unlike that claimed by those who have the whole world watching them, this was a real one.The historical notes tell a bit about the characters based on women actually tried in Scotland during those dark times.In fact, when one of my doctoral advisors gave my wife and me a walking tour of Edinburgh early on in our time there, he pointed out where the witch trials had taken place.Sinclair captures the rage and frustration of women who had no recourse once such accusations flew.A religion only too ready to believe the worst about people, women in particular, showed no mercy based on what was only hearsay and jealousy.
It’s difficult to imagine what life would have been like in such times.Castles and lairds make us think of fairy tales, but reality must’ve been somewhat harsher.It’s fun to pretend about witches around Halloween, but there’s a sadness that’s difficult to escape as an adult.That sadness is all the more profound for finding claims of witch-hunts on the lips of abusers and others who do their best to perpetuate inequality.They dishonor those who actually did die so that men like them could feel smug self-satisfaction in the past.The Mermaid and the Bear brought a number of these thoughts to mind.Our society has made some strides towards treating all people as human beings but we’re yet a long way from where we need to be.Books that remind us of that are always to be welcomed; dreams are worth pursuing.
Halloween is a holiday that brings together many origins.One of the more recent is the tradition of watching horror movies in October.I don’t know if anyone has addressed when horror films became associated with the holiday, but Halloween hasn’t always been about startles and scares.Histories usually trace it to the Celtic festival of Samhain.Samhain was one of the four “cross-quarter days.”Along with Beltane (May Day), its other post equinox cousin, it was considered a time of year when death and life could intermingle.Spooky, yes.Horror, not necessarily.Many cultures have had a better relationship with their dead than we do.We live in a death-denying culture and consequently lead lives of futile anxiety as if death can somehow be avoided.
As a holiday Halloween only became what it is now when it was transported from Celtic regions to North America.Other seasonal traditions—some of English origin such as Beggars’ Night and Guy Fawkes Night—which fell around the same time added to the growth of trick-or-treating and wearing masks.At its heart Halloween was the day before All Saints Day, which the Catholic Church transferred to November 1 in order to curb enthusiasm for Samhain.As is usual in such circumstances, the holy days blended with the holidays and a hybrid—call it a monster—emerged. When merchants learned that people would spend money to capture that spooky feeling, Halloween became a commercial enterprise.Despite All Saints being a “day of obligation,” nobody gets off school just because it’s Halloween.
My October has been particularly busy this year.One of the reasons is that Holy Horror, as a book dealing with scary movies, is seasonally themed.As I was pondering this, weak and weary, upon the eve of a bleak November, I realized that home viewing of horror—which is now a big part of the holiday—is a fairly recent phenomenon.Many of us still alive remember when VHS players became affordable and you could actually rent movies to watch whenever you wanted to!Doesn’t that seem like ancient history now, like something maybe the Sumerians invented?People watch movies on their wristwatches, for crying out loud.I suspect that John Carpenter’s Halloween had a good deal to do with making the holiday and the horror franchise connection.Horror films can be set in any season (Wicker Man, for instance, is about Beltane, and three guesses what season Midsommar references).We’re so busy that we relegate them to this time of year, forgetting that we still have something of the wisdom of the Celts from which we might learn.
I am not a conservative.There, I’ve said it.You have very little control over who your parents are or how they raise you.As I confessed here many times, I was raised in a conservative Christian home of the fundamentalist stripe.Like most kids scared of Hell I took it all very seriously.It is the reason I followed the career path—or perhaps career swamp trek—that I have.In any case, the other day I was looking through a Baker Academic catalogue.Baker, in case you don’t follow the high drama of the publishing industry, is one of the many Christian publishing houses with roots in Grand Rapids, Michigan.Like most publishers in that collective, it tends toward the conservative end of the theological spectrum.As I flipped through I noticed bio after bio of authors with Ph.D.s from Edinburgh, Cambridge, and other prestigious universities in the United Kingdom.
I hadn’t been warned, you see.Many conservatives who want a doctorate study in the UK because they can do so without taking all those classes that will make them examine the Bible critically.That’s not why I went to Edinburgh, but I can see how it might look like that from the outside.I went to Grove City College—a bastion of conservatism.(I was raised that way, remember?)My next educational move should give the lie to my attempt to remain conservative; Boston University School of Theology was considered the most liberal United Methodist seminary in the pre-Internet days.I attended for that very reason.Edinburgh, my true alma mater, was selected because they offered a scholarship that made it possible for a poor kid to finish a doctorate.I wasn’t conservative when I went, and I wasn’t conservative when I came out.
I didn’t get the memo, I guess.The sneaking suspicion that I might be conservative has dogged my career.My dissertation can be read that way, but it’s not a conservative argument.I merely suggested the decision to marry Yahweh off to Asherah was a bit hasty, based on the actual evidence.I’m all for married deities—they tend to be less frustrated toward humanity.Maybe the Almighty could speak to Mrs. God about correcting these worries about what I “really believe.”I went to a conservative college to learn—there were a fair number of attempts to indoctrinate there, but if you thought about things you could see through them, even with a fundie upbringing.But as I thumb through the catalogue I can see how perceptions can work against you, especially when your first job is at a conservative seminary, eh, Mrs. God?
J. Sheridan Le Fanu isn’t exactly a household name, but as a writer from the same era (and perhaps same cloth) as Poe, he was known for his gothic imagination.Since he was Irish his work never really took off in America as some other writers’ did, and he’s certainly not likely to be found on bookstore shelves because there’s not great demand.I have a fondness for gothic literature and Le Fanu’s name had been on my list for some time.At a used bookstore I found one of his books, and as I was checking out the clerk said “I was just checking in another of his books,” so I bought that one too.(When you’re paying just two dollars a pop for books, it feels like virtue.)The latter turned out to be In a Glass Darkly, which apart from its biblical title, contains five stories loosely linked by a narrative framework.Poe wrote that short stories should be read in one sitting, but these tale venture into novelette territory, with some requiring considerable time to finish.
That having been said, the experience was enjoyable enough.Each story is quite different and they range from the vampire classic “Camilla” to a foiled murder mystery and a canonical ghost story or two.While better known across the Atlantic, several of Le Fanu’s stories have been translated to film, and he was regarded as one of the best ghost story writers of his era.Perhaps because modern readers have been subjected to much more subtle foreshadowing, some of the tales are predictable to those on the lookout for twist endings.The Room in the Dragon Volant, for example, suggests that the mysterious lady at the masquerade is indeed the narrator’s adulteress love interest, although the final twist is nicely wrought.
Probably the most well-known of the stories in the collection is “Camilla,” the account of what’s regarded today as a lesbian vampire.The tale is well-crafted, but the credulity of the narrator is almost unbelievable as the pieces fall together and the puzzle picture still isn’t seen.Nevertheless, it’s a creepy account that has captured the imagination of filmmakers through the years.It took me long enough to finish the book that the earlier stories had faded by the time I’d reached the end, but the fault lies with me, not the author.As a gothic fix each of the narratives serves quite well.My other Le Fanu purchase was a much larger book, so it will take some time to achieve that goal.In the meantime, I’ll look forward to discovering more Victorian nightmares as autumn wends its way forward.
Every once in a while a reader, either here or on other social media, asks me what my religious beliefs are.The expected answer to such a question is the standard label of a denomination of some sort.My response, however, is that knowing the group I belong to (and I do) should not effect the way my thoughts are viewed.With the exception of some groups suspected of mind control, standard religions are generally trusted as being motivated by pure intentions.Having both attended and taught in seminary settings, and knowing a great number of clergy, however, it becomes clear that denomination is less important than one might think.In short, I answer this question in the public forum of neither classroom nor blog as I truly believe there’s nothing to be gained by readers/students knowing where I personally seek meaning, denominationally.
It’s no secret that it was once the Episcopal Church.(I could not have taught at Nashotah House otherwise.)It was made pretty clear after being at said seminary for many years that the Episcopalians had no official place for me.Even when I worked a few blocks from the church’s headquarters in New York City I could find no one willing to listen or consider my credentials.Its Church Publishing branch wouldn’t consider me in their book wing.Were it not for some former students who still minister to me, it was clear they did not miss me.So it was with some surprise that I found myself in Nativity Cathedral in Bethlehem on Saturday for their Celtic Mass.The Cathedral itself is lovely with a négligée of wrought iron tracery for a reredos, appropriate for a city built by steel.Eight angels with outspread wings stood atop it.Like most sanctuaries, it was a place of refuge from the busy, noisy street outside.
The reading from Amos 7 stood out to me.Lectionaries, by definition, take pericopes (selections) out of context.Amos’ vision of the plumb line is actually part of a series of visions, but here stands alone with the episode of Amaziah trying to send Amos back to Judah.The prophet responds by saying he’s not a prophet, but just a guy who’s received a message from God.In ancient times there were prophets paid for their services.They supported the government positions and governments made sure they were cared for.The situation hasn’t much changed, at least among conservative religious groups under a Republican administration.There were other parallels here, but saying too much on them might end up giving too much away.